Potter Files : The Hero's Cup
by immortal6666
Summary: Iris returns to Hogwarts expecting a quiet year but finds herself in a deadly game whose scope goes beyond just the Greek pantheon and the British wizarding society. Can she come out on top while juggling different responsibilities that should not mix together all the while under international scrutiny? Sequel to Potter Files : The Sea of Monsters.
1. Back to Hogwarts

**POTTER FILES : THE HERO'S CUP**

Chapter 1 : Back to Hogwarts

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Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

Note : The timeline of the HP universe has been changed to fit PJO universe. Some slight changes have been made to HP canon to fit girl Harry. So, Iris (fem!Harry) Potter was born on 31 July 1993 and GOF happened in 2007-2008.

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You might have already read it many times but this chapter is in Iris' Pov unless stated otherwise. I have decided to have Iris' fourth year as separate story as its easier that way. This chapter is rewrite of the second chapter but with some additions. I have not read Rick Riordan's work on Norse myths and don't know much about it other than their capital in US being Boston and Valhalla being some hotel. So, i am making up that part on my own.

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It was crowded. The children were pushing their trolleys every way and the adults were nearby fussing over them or giving them last minute advices. It was the situation in King's Cross station platform no. 9-3/4 at half past ten in the morning. I had intended to arrive half an hour earlier but I ended up sleeping in. I looked around and found a slightly chubby boy accompanied by a stern looking elderly lady wearing a vulture topped hat and carrying a bright red handbag. I navigated the crowds with the ease of practice.

"Greetings, Lady Longbottom, Heir Longbottom."

I dipped my head fully for the first, a sign of respect and I simply gave a nod for the second, a greeting between equals. Neville greeted me back similarly.

It was not something I usually do but Neville's grandmother was quite strict in these matters and there was nothing for me to gain by antagonising her. Even if those practices had ceased being practiced in everyday life long time ago, she felt every scion of a pureblood family should be thorough in it. Atleast, I did not have to do a full curtsey, those were reserved for upper society parties.

She looked me up and down as if searching for a mistake, however tiny but I knew she would not find anything. She had trained me too well. I shuddered inside on being reminded of those horrible days. Apparently, she was unhappy that one of her grandson's friends, despite being the heiress of a noble House, was ignorant of pureblood social etiquette. I was invited to their manor and given a crash course. Neville, being happy to be temporarily out from her thumb, did not do much to help. Hermione had gone on a vacation with her parents.

Once she was satisfied, she gave a terse nod. It was then that we heard someone shout our names. "NEVILLE! IRIS!"

Hermione came running towards us but she suddenly stopped on seeing Lady Longbottom like a cat stopping before a body of water. She dipped her head stiffly and greeted us one after another.

"Lady Longbottom, Heir Longbottom, Heiress Potter. I apologise for my ill conduct. I let my excitement get the better of me."

It was obvious to any observant onlooker that Hermione did not like showing submissive pose to others just because they had better magical ancestry than her. But she was intelligent enough to know that letting her pride dictate her actions would put Neville in a tough spot. It also helped she liked and respected both of us. If she was expected to do that to Draco Malfoy, she would have just spit on his face even if it would have made her look crass. Then again, Lady Longbottom would have just turned a blind eye or give her a mild rebuke to rub it in. Whatever the case, it would be quite entertaining to watch.

"Hmph. Ensure that it doesn't happen again. A lady should always maintain her poise and conduct in public.", Augusta Longbottom answered gruffly, "You three, study well and do not disappoint me."

We recognised the dismissal for what it was and boarded the train. Once we found an empty compartment, I quickly moved on to the couch and started catching up on my sleep for even magic was helpless against the monster called jet lag.

I did not know what I was dreaming of in the beginning or whether I was dreaming at all, there were flashes, a large cup burning in blue flames, the flames turning red and spitting out something, a dark haired boy with a wand and sword at his waist holding the cup which was no longer burning, all the while I could hear a familiar voice echoing around me telling me to win and to make Greece proud. The next thing I knew I had woken up and Hermione had ceased shaking my shoulders.

"Get up. We are nearly there.", she said.

I stood up and stretched my arms above my head relieving the knots in my back. I then patted down any wrinkles in the robes to seem more presentable. I was already in my uniform as I had come into the platform by Floo.

"You know, Iris, while you were sleeping, Malfoy came in here with his lackeys earlier to do his yearly bragging.", Neville said.

"Neville, of course, convinced him that they were not welcome here and escorted them out.", Hermione said in a teasing tone.

I smirked on seeing the reddish hue on his cheeks. Neville's crush on the frizzy haired girl was not much of a secret. I did not know whether the reverse was true. From my understanding, Lady Longbottom was encouraging, more like pushing, Neville to start courting her. I had decided to not interfere and let the situation develop on its own. They were still young and could change their minds later on.

I tilted my head and tried to give a coy look. "Oh Neville, you are my hero, my knight in shining armour."

The red tint in his cheeks deepened. Neville had changed a lot from the shy, gibbering wreck he used to be in his first year. While he was not exactly thin, most of the fat on him had transformed into solid muscles. It was instances like these that reminded us that some part of his old self was still in there.

"Har Har, _little_ sister, make fun of me, will you. If you must know, Hermione cast a Silence bubble around you so that your sleep will not be disturbed. Considering the way you slept though, it might not have been necessary."

It was Hermione's turn to resemble a tomato. I simply rolled my eyes. Even if Neville and I were not siblings by blood, we considered ourselves that way. Our mothers Alice and Lily were dorm mates and when they became pregnant at the same time, they named the other as their child's godmother. I naturally felt it was my solemn duty as his sister to tease Neville at every chance while he felt, as the elder brother, it was his duty to tease me in return.

Soon, the Hogwarts Express slowed down and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station. As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. We looked at each other and simultaneously cast the Impervius charm. Usually it's cast on objects to keep them dry or on our faces to let us see as the drain in reserves for the spell depended on how long it was kept up and the area it covered. So, the full body covering like the one we just did was rarely done. We did not mind it as the carriages were quite close to the station. A good thing about it was that we did not have to worry about slipping on the wet ground.

"Hi, Hagrid!", I yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Iris?", Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather.", said Hermione fervently, shivering as we inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred threstal driven carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. I went to the front and stroked its head. It leaned into my hand happily receiving my petting. Hades' chariot drivers had always liked me for as long as I could remember.

"Iris, what are you doing?", Hermione asked.

"I forgot, you can't see them, can you?", Neville spoke sounding forlorn.

"But-"

"They are called threstals. Only those who have seen death can see them.", came Luna's airy and detached voice.

Hermione looked about to argue but kept quiet on seeing Neville's sad look. Threstals were one of the few magical creatures whose Mist could fool wizards too. As Luna said, only those who had seen death and accepted it could see them.

"Hi Luna! I thought you were going with Ginny."

"Ginny is hanging out with her Quidditch friends. I had nothing in common with them. So, I thought I would come here."

I nodded. Luna could be like a lost puppy at times, I mused. I gave a final pat to the threstal and spoke in Ancient Greek low enough for only the threstal to hear. "Tell hi to Hades for me."

By the way it perked up, I knew it understood my message. I wondered what the god of Dead was doing. Probably, sitting alone in a dark throne and brooding.

"Come on, let's get in.", I said loudly to others.

We climbed gracefully into the carriage and removed the Impervius charm. The door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, I could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as our carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

We jumped down from their carriage, put on the charm again and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when we were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ronald Weasley, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak — ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, he staggered sideways into Seamus, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing Dean, it burst at Seamus' feet, sending a wave of cold water over his shoes into his socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. I was glad we were at the back. Impervius charm did nothing against solid projectiles. Though it was interesting to see that we were the only ones who thought of it. Others were all sogging wet.

I looked up and smirked. There, floating twenty feet above them, was Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"PEEVES!", yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed a girl around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch — sorry, Miss Chang —"

"That's all right, Professor!", Cho Chang gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!", barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!", cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall.

"Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!"

And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!", shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves —"

It seemed she did not know that the poltergeists were weak against salt. I considered telling her for a moment and then discarded the thought out of my head. It would be against the Marauders' Code of Conduct.

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!", said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

I saw Professor McGonagall putting the Impervius charm on herself while we moved into the Great Hall. It seemed she had forgotten to do it while rushing here.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils.

Hermione, Neville, and I walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semi-transparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at us.

"Good evening to you too, Sir Nicholas."

Being polite had never hurt anyone. It gave you friends who would help you when you need it. Not that the youngest Weasley boy would know anything about it. He was so rude, ill mannered and whiny. Was it any surprise that he was the butt of all jokes? It was like he was carrying a big signing saying 'Prank Me'. The twins told me that he was dropped on the head too many times as a child. His one saving grace was that he was not an outright bigot like Malfoy. At least, Ginny turned out alright. Speaking of her...

"Hi, Ginny!", I called out on seeing her sitting next to Katie Bell.

"Hi, Iris!" She enthusiastically greeted me in return before turning back to talk with the other girl.

I was happy to see that her joining the team had helped her move on from the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. You see, a fanatic like Oliver Wood would have never let me quit the team for something like apprenticeship under Dumbledore. Sure, I could still have done it but his constant pestering to change my mind would have been irritating. Ginny was my compromise. The twins agreed with me as it allowed them to keep a closer eye on her. Wood tested her and she was found to be an extraordinary Seeker and nearly as good a Chaser. Even then, he only let me go after I agreed to be the reserve Seeker in case Ginny was injured, which thankfully had not happened yet.

It helped that she was actually interested in Quidditch and took a much more active role than I did.

One of her ideas was to play as an additional Chaser against Slytherin when the Snitch was not in sight. Slytherin Quidditch team whose strategy revolved around calculated rule breaking simply did not have an answer to that. It was not technically illegal just risky. The fact that Malfoy was a lousy Seeker who spent his time bragging about his father's money and influence and the Weasley's lack of it rather than doing his job made it a lot easier for her.

Another of her ideas was to have Wood do tryouts for the reserve Keeper position as it was his last year. I was not sure whether it was a good thing or bad thing that Ronald Weasley won the position. Now that Wood was gone, we could rename the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Weasley Quidditch team.

Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Iris!"

"Hi, Colin!", I greeted back with a smile.

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom I was something of a hero. It was less to do with GWL and more to do with the fact that I was his pureblood sponsor. Yes, I was surprised too.

To understand the concept of pureblood sponsor, you should first understand the educational system of Magical Britain. OWLS were mandatory for everyone with magic so that Statute of Secrecy was upheld. NEWTS were needed for most of the jobs but the muggleborns or halfbloods intending to return to the muggle world would quit after OWLS and take a crash course in muggle subjects before taking their A-levels.

Hogwarts was a prestigious institution which taught the subjects until NEWT level and the teachers were internationally renowned masters of their crafts. Their tuition fees reflected that. Then there were satellite schools who offered until OWL level, were taught by Journeymen, fancy term for those who passed their NEWTS, and were a lot more affordable.

Hogwarts had the 'First Right of Refusal' or something like that which let them take the richest, brightest or magically powerful and leave the rest to the satellite schools. Those who could not afford the fees on their own were sponsored by the Ministry or pureblood houses, usually light but occasionally neutral. How the sponsorship developed with time was left to the participants. There had been instances where the sponsored child had married into the sponsoring family.

From what I know, House Potter had sponsored a child every generation. It was basically tradition. There was a separate vault set up for the purpose in Gringotts which would be funded as long as we had money for it and there was still a living Potter. I did not know what criteria was decided for the selection but I knew that Creevey family was selected.

"Iris, guess what? Guess what, Iris? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"That's good.", I replied amused.

I obviously knew about it. The original agreement was only for one child. To include his brother in it required me to sign on it.

"He's really excited!", said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Iris?"

"You will be proud of him either way, won't you?", I asked.

"Of course, I will. But it will be nice if he's here in Gryffindor. I will not get to see him much otherwise."

I looked up at the staff table. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years. Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the Potions master, Snape. On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which I guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought.

But what confused me was the three new people sitting there. Surely, Dumbledore did not hire three people for teaching Defence against Dark Arts. The Auror who took the job last year had returned to the Corps after his contract term was over as his purpose at Hogwarts was to catch Sirius Black, unofficially of course.

The woman amongst the trio had such a startling resemblance to Greengrass that I decided she had to be a cousin of some sort. She had her dark hair tied up in a bun and her dull brown eyes seemed to scrutinise everything around her. Then there was a blond man with distinct Irish features who looked amused for some reason. The last was a dark haired man wearing square rimmed glasses. He seemed like a more grown up version of Percy Weasley in his demeanour but looks could be deceiving.

I looked up at the ceiling and frowned. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and I had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it. I could not think of a reason Zeus would be so angry that his temper tantrums affected the weather here. Perhaps, there was something wrong with the Irish. Their territory was the closest to Hogwarts and they did have a Sky god too.

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school — all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what I recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he was draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, _I fell in the lake!_ He looked positively delighted about it.

"It seems your brother will be in Gryffindor after all. He is even more reckless than you.", I told Colin.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

 _A thousand years or more ago,_

 _When I was newly sewn,_

 _There lived four warriors of renown,_

 _Whose names are still well known:_

 _Bold Gryffindor, prince of the Sky,_

 _Fair Ravenclaw, warrior of the Highlands,_

 _Sweet Hufflepuff, apple of Mercury's eye,_

 _Shrewd Slytherin, walker of the Crossroads._

 _They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

 _They hatched a daring plan_

 _To train young warriors_

 _Thus Hogwarts School began._

 _Now each of these four founders_

 _Formed their own house, for each_

 _Did value different virtues_

 _In the ones they had to teach._

 _By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

 _Prized far beyond the rest;_

 _For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

 _Would always be the best;_

 _For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

 _Most worthy of admission;_

 _And power-hungry Slytherin_

 _Loved those of great ambition._

 _While still alive they did divide_

 _Their favorites from the throng,_

 _Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

 _When they were dead and gone?_

' _Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

 _He whipped me off his head_

 _The founders put some brains in me_

 _So I could choose instead!_

 _Now slip me snug about your ears,_

 _I've never yet been wrong,_

 _I'll have a look inside your mind_

 _And tell where you belong!_

Well, atleast, it was the song that I heard. I was sure that the Mist made ordinary wizards and unaware demigods hear something different. Perhaps, every 'warriors' word might have been replaced by 'wizards'.

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool", she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!", shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; I could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, presented an intimidating image — a classic example of appearances being deceptive, as everyone of us knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. The students all had a nickname for him, The Gentle Giant. In the first few months of the school year, one of his many duties, a duty he took upon himself I should add, was to console homesick first years and give them a shoulder to cry.

Hagrid winked at us as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide —

"GRYFFINDOR!", the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!", said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!", said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Hey, Dennis!", Colin said pointing at me, "Look who it is. Iris Potter!"

"Really?", he replied excitedly.

"I am Iris Potter, this is Hermione Granger, that's Neville Longbottom.", I spoke introducing each of them in turn, "Welcome to Gryffindor, brat."

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up", Ronald moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food.", said Nearly Headless Nick. "Madley, Laura!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"'Course it is, if you're dead.", snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, the intentional dig going over the Weasley boy's empty head.

He applauded as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time", said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate. I struggled to hold in a laugh as his behaviour reminded me of the cartoon of the Coyote, the one who plotted elaborate schemes but ended up falling into his own traps through sheer bad luck.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you.", he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

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The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!", said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. I would also like to inform you of the changes in staff happening this year. Professor McGonagall has decided to retire as the the Head of the Gryffindor House."

I knew about it of course as I was the one who asked the Headmaster last year about the contradictory requirements of two of her posts. Being the Head of the Gryffindor House required her to represent us while as the Deputy, she was expected to remain impartial. It was like being the prosecutor and defence solicitor at the same time. A change was inevitable.

He waited for the gasps to subside and continued, "Professor Burbage will be the new Head of the Gryffindor House. Also, three of our former students has been hired as assistant teachers in areas of their expertise. Miss Artemis Greengrass has been chosen by Professor Snape and will teach Potions for first to third years while he will continue for fourth year and above."

Many people looked at Daphne on hearing the name and she struggled to hide how uncomfortable she was under attention.

The dark haired woman stood up and spoke, "You can addresses me as Madam Greengrass.", and sat back down.

"Oh man!", Ron groaned, "We still have to put up with Snape. Why couldn't we have gotten her?"

Majority of us agreed with him. We were not happy that just missed out though I had a feeling that the boys had a different reason for their disappointment other than their dislike of Snape considering that they had clapped much harder for her than the girls.

"It's Professor Snape, Ronald.", Hermione interjected coldly.

I sighed. She had never really forgiven him for his role in the incident in our first year when she was nearly killed by a troll in an abandoned bathroom. While we knew that he did not intend for her to be killed, even a girl like Hermione who clung to books and logic could be emotional in such a traumatising event. The frequent night terrors she experienced the following nights ensured that Ronald Weasley was hated by all Gryffindor girls of our year. The others let go of their hatred later on as they were not personally affected unlike us. It did not help that his apology was some mumbling we could barely hear and even then he had to be pressured into it.

"Whatever", he said uncaringly.

She gritted her teeth in anger and looked ready to give him a piece of her mind but my hand on her shoulder calmed her.

"Mr. Kevin O'Brien has been chosen by Professor McGonagall and will be taking Transfiguration for first to third years."

It was the blond man's turn. This time, it was the girls who clapped harder. He rose up and waved at everyone giving a roguish grin that elicited many giggles from the female folk and then sat back down. I hoped any similarities he had to Lockhart did not include the level of competency.

"Mr. Marcus Everard has been chosen by Professor Flitwick and will be taking Charms for the first to third years."

The dark haired man rose up and nodded before sitting back down. I noticed he had a habit of adjusting his glasses every few minutes. I wondered whether it was his personal nervous tic or something all bespectacled people did.

"I wonder whether he's related to the former Headmaster Pontificus Everard.", I heard Hermione murmur.

Many of us did find it funny though that the stern, serious McGonagall got the roguish playboy type guy while the enthusiastic Flitwick got stern and serious one.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

I blinked my eyes in surprise. I looked around at Fred and George, my fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. When they turned to glare at me, I raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Did you know about this?", they asked simultaneously rather than one after another like they usually do.

"No."

I did not elaborate and they did not ask me to. They were content with the negative reply.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It was as if Ares had stolen Hepheastus' tool kit and decided he was suddenly an expert at using it. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words I could not hear. Perhaps, some Privacy charm had been cast. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?", said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Wow! That's Mad Eye Moody.", said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?", Hermione whispered horrified, "What happened to his face?"

I wondered whether she was thinking it could have been her if the troll had gotten a little more time with her.

"I don't know.", I replied honestly, "I know that he was a recently retired Auror and had fought in the war. I had not seen anyone that scarred though."

I had suspicions that the scars were less from fighting the war and more from being captured and tortured relentlessly for some information. I knew better than to tell her that though.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying", he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!", said Fred Weasley loudly. The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley", he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . ."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . .", said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

While the above statement could have also been meant for the wizards who had read about it, we, those in the know, understood it was mainly for our sake. After all, we knew the true history of the tournament which was actually called the Hero's Cup and did not need to listen to the Mist doctored version.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?", Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament.", Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!", Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors.

But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more. "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious — "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!", said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

Perhaps, Dumbledore did not want to lose what hearing he had left in his old age to Mrs. Weasley's legendary Howlers, I thought but did not say out loud. I was close enough of a friend that I knew when they were not in the mood to take a joke.

"They're not stopping me entering.", said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

I was not sure why they were obsessed with the prize money. As far as I knew, they were quite chummy with Sirius Black. Black family might not be as rich as they used to be at their peak but still thousand Galleons was paltry sum for them. I could not see him being stingy about helping set up the prank shops. Then again, Weasleys were quite prideful when it came to money.

"Come on", said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

We set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament. "Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?", I asked.

"Dunno", said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George. . . ."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though", Neville said.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?", said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"Or he is testing us by giving us a challenge.", I interjected causing the twins to perk up, "After all, if an underage student managed to get selected despite Dumbledore trying to stop him or her, they are obviously qualified despite their age.

"Stop encouraging them, Iris. People have died in this tournament.", said Hermione in a worried voice as we walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah", said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Besides, if Dumbledore is really challenging us, then it would be a blemish on our honour as pranksters to not rise up to the challenge. Hey, Iris, Neville, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"Nah", Neville said, "I don't really know enough to go for it."

"I will definitely try.", I said, "If I get it, good. If not, it means someone more qualified got it. What about Quidditch though?"

"What about it? Dumbledore cancelled it.", said Fred.

I shook my head. "Inter-House Quidditch Cup was cancelled. It is ensure that Hogwarts shows a united front when the other schools arrive. He never said anything about Inter-School Cup. Present a formal request with the signatures of all Quidditch captains and I am sure Dumbledore will agree to it. After all, what better way to welcome the visitors than with a proper Quidditch tournament?"

Fred said, "Very true. Who the hell is our captain anyway now that Wood is gone?"

"It certainly can't be us. No one in their right mind would make us captain.", replied George.

"Why not? Are we not the coolest and most charismatic people in Gryffindor, my uglier brother.", said Fred.

"Yes, we are, my uglier brother. If we were made captain, everyone will be too distracted by our handsomeness and awesomeness to concentrate on Quidditch.", replied George.

I smirked, amused. I could tell by the way they got into the twin talk that they had moved past their bad mood. As we were making our way to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, we saw Professor McGonagall coming towards us from the opposite direction.

"Ah Miss Potter, there you are.", she spoke.

"Good evening Professor. I take it the Headmaster wants to see me.", I said waving the others on.

"Yes, you're, Miss Potter. I hope you all were not planning some mischief. I might not be your Head of the House anymore but I still have the authority to punish you.", she said looking at us sternly through her square glasses.

"Of course not, Professor.", I gave a charming smile, "We were simply discussing the possibility of arranging the Inter - School Cup. Of course, our start up squad will be mostly Gryffindor. After all our Quidditch team is the best. Though it will be nice to know who the new captain is."

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched into a sort of half smile for a moment before being suppressed. "Appointing the team captain is the responsibility of the Head of Gryffindor, which I am not anymore. Though if I were to make a guess, it would be Ms. Johnson. Now come, Ms. Potter. Let's not dally."

X-X-X-X-X

"Come in."

I entered his office and saw, to my amusement, that nothing had changed. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, the portrait of Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predecessor, being the biggest. All of them were snoozing gently in their frames put to sleep by Dumbledore no doubt. I wondered why as the older ones would have already known about it. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.

"Welcome, Iris. Take a seat. Lemon drops?"

"Thank you, Albus.", I replied.

Dumbledore had asked me to call him by his first as long as we were not discussing my academics. Considering that he called me by my first name, it was obviously not so. It was weird at first but over time I got used to it.

"I heard that you had completed another quest. Congratulations."

"It was not my quest. Clarisse ws the leader and I just tagged along."

Dumbledore smiled. "I see. Is there anything you wanted to tell me?"

I thought about it for a moment and found no reason to keep it secret. So, I told him everything about the dream in explicit detail.

"It is curious.", he said stroking his beard, a frown on his face, "Are you sure that was exactly what was said?"

"Yes, Albus."

"The message implies a certainty that you will be selected regardless of whether you put your name or not. That's concerning.", he said.

"I know."

"Considering the number of people involved, there is no reliable way to single out the culprit or culprits."

"So, we will have to wait until they make a mistake. If I am going to be participating, I might as well put my name myself rather than let someone else muck it up."

Dumbledore frowned as if he wanted to object but had no good reason to do so.

"It's times like these that I wished I had talent in skills related to my mother's domains. It would have been nice to know what she knew but, alas, we ordinary mortals have to work with what we have."

I ignored his description of himself as ordinary and focused on the matter at hand. I knew that he was not talking about the Dark Arts or Necromancy. The other power Hecate might have was seeing glimpses of possible futures. If Dumbledore was not good at it, we should consult someone who was.

"What about our Divination professor? Perhaps, she could look into the future and find something.", I said.

"I am afraid Professor Trelawnley might not be of much assistance. If she has any Seer abilities, she was good enough to hide it from me. Unlike the Oracle you are used to, our Professor's... Inner Eye tends to be clouded most of the time. I have only ever known of her giving one prophecy in my life."

Was it just me or did I hear a hint of mockery in his tone? It seemed Dumbledore did think much more of Professor Trelawnley than Hermione did. It seemed he hired her simply so he could have an Oracle under his thumb. Perhaps, it was the only reason he had not cancelled the subject altogether.

I guess, I should explain. There were three different types of gifted people. Seers were the most well known type who could see the future on their own without the help of supplements like tea leaves or cards. Cassandra of Troy was a Seer. They usually went insane unable to distinguish between the present and the possible futures unless they had someone to anchor them to the present, someone they trusted. Oracles were the media through which Fates conveyed a message in form of prophecies. Prophets were not that different from ordinary people most of the time aside from the occasional feeling of deja vu. Many of them lived out their lives never learning of their gift. But, if someone asked them an indirect question, they would just know the answer. It was believed that proponents of religious movements like Moses, Jesus, Mohammed and so called swamis were wizards with that gift. Well, considering that Greek, Roman and many other kinds of gods were real, it was quite possible that God, with capital 'g', was real as well.

I have not taken Divination because it did not seem interesting, well, at least the Ministry approved curriculum. Divination was actually a large branch of magic consisting of all the methods used to 'divine' the past, present and the future. In old days, before Dumbledore's time, when the Everard was the Headmaster, Divination supported History of Magic just as Astronomy supported Ritual Studies. However, around two hundred years ago, the Ministry declared all rituals with the exception of the naming and hand fasting rituals as dark and restricted or outright banned them thus ending Ritual Studies. Similarly, Divination curriculum was reduced to just 'divining' future. I would have known any of it if I had not found a few old school books in the Room of Requirement, books dated before 1800s.

"I guess, the solution is obvious then.", I said.

"Then you know I cannot help you. Whether you succeed or fail will depend on your own efforts."

I nodded. It was expected that, as the Headmaster of the participating school, he would be bound by the oaths.

"I know. It will be a good challenge."

He sighed. "As the Headmaster, I am supposed to discourage you but we both know it's a pointless endeavour. Have you completed the work I gave you for the summer?"

X-X-X-X-X

3rd person point of view

X-X-X-X-X

In a land far, far away, a man sat in his office looking out of the window to the darkening sky. The place never had much of what you would call 'pleasant' weather but he knew that the cloudy sky and rising storm were not of the usual variety. Every time the thunder boomed, the building trembled, despite the wards that were supposed to prevent it from happening, and the burning candles, which were the only source of light, flickered forgetting that it was enchanted to be always steady and well lit. Suddenly, lightning flashed striking the ground outside the castle proper and the lights went out.

The man got up from his chair and knelt with his head bowed downwards, nearly touching the ground, knowing what was coming. The lightning flashed again and the room was lit by the glowing figure in front of him. If anyone imagined what a perfect specimen of man looked like, it would be the figure in front of him. He was taller than any man he knew, his face looked to be chiseled from stone, he was wearing a half sleeve shirt struggling to contain his bulging muscles, his arms were as thick as a trunk. The very air around them was charged by his presence and there was a faint smell of ozone about him, revealing that he was no mere man, but a god. He was Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, Prince of Asgard.

"Are all the preparations done?", the Thunderer spoke, his voice reverberating around the room, shaking the building much like the thunder that preceded his arrival.

"Yes, my lord. It's all done."

"They have played their piece and we have played ours. It's only a matter of time. It would be interesting to see their so called 'Dementor Slayer' is worth the hype."

"My lord-"

"ENOUGH! Have I given you permission to speak, worm?", seeing the man shake his head in fear, Thor continued, "I know of what you intend to speak. They might not be in a precarious position at the moment but forcing their champions to face greater challenges than ours will make us look bad. Our champion is not some weakling who needs favoritism and cheating to win like Greeks."

"Yes, my lord.", he said.

Suddenly, the pressure in the room grew many times and he was forced against the ground. He tried to raise himself but the pressure was too great. Just when he thought he would die, the pressure was released causing him to take huge gulps of air to steady himself.

"Do not forget that the only reason you continue to exist is that fader believes your inside knowledge will be useful. If it's up to me, I would have smith you off the surface of Midgard so that you don't taint our land with your cowardly traitorous ways. Return victorious or . . . ."

Next thing the man knew, he was kneeling on the ground sweat pouring down his face and soaking his clothes. The room was lit by steadily burning candles, the weather was the usual. There was no evidence to indicate that the entity's visit was not a day dream or hallucination.

Igor Karkaroff wiped his face and got back to his seat. He thought back to his life the last decade and a half, and wondered bitterly whether someone had switched the blood in his veins with malaclava venom. He had joined the Death Eaters not because he cared for or respected the leader, but for power. It helped that it was easier to get away with lesser things if the Ministry was too busy with the Death Eater attacks. He was a pure blood wizard and proud of it too but unlike the Malfoys, his family was not swimming in money to just throw a bunch of it to the politicians to get them to solve his problems. Just when the Dark Lord was on the cusp of victory, he disappeared without trace. The only hint that something went wrong was the searing pain on the location of the Dark Mark. Some were lucky enough to be in their homes, some others had the presence of mind to use the emergency, untraceable port key they were provided to escape and he was among the unlucky lot who got captured.

He did not hesitate in selling off his comrades when the alternative was the Dementors. He had seen what they could do under the Dark Lord and he was not eager to end up defenseless with them. The unofficial exile did not seem like much of a punishment then with a lot of people, enemies and former allies alike, out for his head. It seemed more of a blessing when a contact of his arranged a teaching post at Durmstrang in exchange for giving up some inconsequential information about Hogwarts, well inconsequential for him. If the old fool Dumbledore got some problems due to it, all the better.

He then plotted and backstabbed his way to the Headmaster post. After all, if the Dark Lord was as immortal as his fellow Death Eaters had believed and managed to return to power, he could offer up the school as its Headmaster to be his stronghold in the East, well Dark Lord did not seem to be type of person who would be content with just Britain, and the students for his army, many of whom were children of pure blood families who did not want to got to Hogwarts under the mudblood lover. He would have all the power he wanted and an easy life, with or without the Dark Lord.

But, all his plans crumbled not long after he became the headmaster when the existence of the supposed mythical figures were revealed to him. Forget remaining as the Headmaster, he needed to get Durmstrang to win the Tournament to continue to live. He would have said AKing himself would have been better than returning as a failure but considering his recent luck, he might end up with them even after death. It was better to not even think of losing.

X-X-X-X-X

AN: You know, I don't know whether I went overboard with Lady Longbottom. I like to think that if Neville had any friends in early part of canon, she would have been as critical of them as she would have been of Neville.

Malaclava is a magical creature whose venom gives the victim bad luck. It's an ingredient in Felix Felicis, luck potion, i think.

I was not as enthusiastic about this chapter as the previous ones. I really wanted to get to the part where the other schools arrive. I tried my best not to make mistakes and hopefully I did it justice.


	2. Unforgivables

**POTTER FILES : THE HERO'S CUP**

Chapter 2 : Unforgivables

X-X-X-X-X

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

Note : The timeline of the HP universe has been changed to fit PJO universe. Some slight changes have been made to HP canon to fit girl Harry. So, Iris (fem!Harry) Potter was born on 31 July 1993 and COS happened in 2005-2006.

X-X-X-X-X

You might have already read it many times but this chapter is in Iris' Pov.

X-X-X-X-X

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

I ignored them and checked out my schedule. First I had Herbology with Hufflepuffs, which was common for all Gryffindors. It was weird that I was not that good at it considering I was the daughter of Artemis but I guessed it was more closer to Agriculture than Wild. Perhaps, Neville was descendant of some Agriculture god. Next slot was free which I could use for my personal projects, atleast during the early days before the teachers start to pile a mountain of homework on us. While it was free for me, it was Care of Magical Creatures for Neville but not all of his CoMC classes were free for me. The schedule was weird like that.

Care of Magical Creatures was one of the electives offered during last year for OWLS, others being Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Divination and Muggle Studies. We were expected to take any two of them but academic oriented people like Hermione who were content to have no life outside it, could take three. Talking about Hermione, the girl nearly had a mental breakdown when she learned she could not take all of them and McGonagall had to go to her home to console her though, to her credit, I was sure that it her missing a lot of classes in second year due to being petrified that caused her to have such an extreme reaction. She literally could not take them as the Arithmancy class happened at the same time as Divination and Muggle Studies.

McGonagall had to painstakingly explain to her that Muggle Studies was mostly for purebloods who wanted to try for a job in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. They had a sub department called Muggle worthy Excuse Committee whose job was to make up explanations believable for the non-magicals that Obliviators could use. As a muggleborn, she did not need to take the class and could write OWL for it independently which was what she finally decided. While the curriculum was not so outdated to state that muggles still rode horse carts and defecated on the streets, there was no mention of mobile phones or Internet which was understandable as most of the developments happened in the last fifteen years and even adult muggles struggled to keep up with the new age devices. But, there was also no mention of atom bombs or space expeditions either, or anything that they had done that was better than us, a clear sign of Ministry censorship. I would know, I checked out the books as I intended to take the OWL exam for it. After all, why would I ignore the opportunity to get an extra OWL with no work at all?

Then there was the fact that all these electives except Divination could be taken after OWLS. Professor Trelawnley never accepted older students for some reason, something about being too late to open the Inner Eye or something. As the NEWT students had many more free hours and with many compulsory OWL courses becoming optional depending on their career path, they could complete our three year course in two years. It was mainly for the new students but continuing Hogwarts students could also make use of it.

Hermione had initially taken Divination along with Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. But, a month into the term, she had walked out of the class after calling the subject "wooly" and the teacher "fraud" and never returned. Then again, it was not surprising that a subject that relied on gut feelings and instincts would drive a by-the-book person like Hermione mad. She then transferred to Arithmancy though I doubt Professor Vector would have allowed her if she was not so famous for her work ethic.

X-X-X-X-X

When we arrived at Greenhouse three, we were greeted by Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants I had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each of them was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers", Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus —"

"The what?", Seamus Finnigan said, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus", Professor Sprout replied, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus touches it."

That was weird. I thought it was the girls who acted that way when it came to getting themselves dirty. Maybe, the Irish were particularly self conscious about their cleanliness when they were not busy getting drunk and partying.

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. We caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy.", Professor Sprout said, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen.", Hannah Abbott, a close friend of Susan Bones, said in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl,", Professor Sprout said, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

I had to agree with her on that. It seemed, magic or not, teenagers would be teenagers, doing stupid things for stupid reasons.

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors, who were not having free hour, heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

X-X-X-X-X

Our arrival at Arithmancy classroom was welcomed with a test. Professor Vector told us that as it was a double period, first would be a test to determine how much we had slacked off. She also told us that anyone who failed the test would be sent to the third year class to repeat the year, that is, if they did not decide to give up the course altogether. It seemed our illustrious teacher did not have much of a good opinion about us. Nobody asked what constituted failing. All of us knew the difference between being brave and being suicidal.

The questions started off easy with addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, stuff we learned in primary school. Then we moved onto the calculus, integration and differentiation, well the simple ones. Then, we were asked to reduce Lumos spell into mathematical equations. The next part was numerology where we were given a name and birth date. We were asked to use them to predict the personality of the person involved, so basically, Destiny Number, Name Number and Personality Number.

The last part was similar to computer programming and was the necessary basics for spell crafting. We were asked to explain briefly about using the numbers 2, 3, 4, 5 and 7 as base.

7 is used when raw power was the priority. Spells like Killing Curse and Shield Breaker use 7 as base. It was mostly offensive in nature but it was possible to use it to make powerful shields. 3 represented attributes like defence, stability, grounding. It's the most appropriate for defensive spells and wards. 4 represented death, chaos and unpredictability but also rebirth, growth, change, progress. 5 was for anything related to space and borders. Extension charm, Anti-Apparition charm all use it as base. 2 was the most primitive and was for spells that either worked or did not. There was no middle ground.

Then there were the diagrams to represent the flow of magic. For base 2, it was simply a straight line connecting two magical nodes, a source and a sink. When magic flows from source to sink, it's in "ON" state, other times it's in "OFF" state.

For base 3, we have to draw both of them. First was a straight line connecting three nodes, two sources on the outside and a sink in the middle. As the sink received magic from both sources, it was capable of double the power of previous one, theoretically at least. In truth, it came closer to the square root of three. It's an outdated theory and was passed over as it did not explain it's inherent stability and versatility. The next one was a triangle. It too had two sources and a sink but a line connected the two sources forming the grounding. Also, the identity of the sources and sink kept shifting between the nodes depending on the imbalance.

For base 4, there was the same triangle but there was a line from the sink bisecting the triangle. It was basically the Peverell family symbol without the incircle. The connection was obvious. I wondered what the incircle meant though. The magic flowed through it and returned to the sources. There was no interchanging of identify between the nodes.

For base 5, there were two mutually perpendicular lines with sources on both ends intersecting each other at a central node which functioned as the sink. As the sink received power from 4 sources, it's maximum power output was four times that of base 2.

For base 7, it's a similar arrangement but with three mutually perpendicular lines rather than two. So, it's maximum power output was six times that of base 2.

After she collected our test papers, she spent the rest of the time teaching us. At first, she briefly explained about using the number 13 as the base. Apparently, it was used when stuff like souls, spirits were involved, well at least, that was what I could assimilate from her lecture. From what I could see while looking around, I knew there would be a lot of people taking refuge in the library even if Professor Vector told us that it was not part of the OWL syllabus and we would not be learning anymore about it. The class ended with the discussion about Soul Numbers and Soul Urges.

X-X-X-X-X

"Oh man!", Neville groaned as we joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will. . . ."

"Lots of homework?", Hermione said brightly, "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Of course not. She just gave us a mind numbing test and taught the class right after it. Homework after that might be a little cruel even for her.", came my reply.

We reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. We had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

We turned to look at the source. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, smirking smugly at Ronald Weasley, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?", Ron said shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" Malfoy said, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!

 **FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**

 _It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent._

 _Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."_

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?", he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

 _Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

"And there's a picture, Weasley!", Malfoy said, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury but held himself back in a show of restraint we never knew he had. Everyone of us was staring at him.

Malfoy, as surprised as we were by his self control, decided to up the ante. "So, tell me, Weasley, is your mother really that porky or it it just the picture?"

Ronald snarled and looked ready to pounce on him but I interrupted.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall."

Everyone else stiffened. Ron looked like someone had woken him up by throwing a bucket of ice cold water on his head. Malfoy, on the other hand, furious at what he felt was my interference, sneered.

"If you think I will fall for a cheap trick like that, Potter", he said ignoring the fact that he had been fooled by the trick before, "you are as dumb as your boyfriend Weasley."

"I believe she was actually greeting me, Mr. Malfoy.", came a voice directly behind Malfoy.

He paled enough to look like Sir Nicholas as he realised that I was not in fact tricking him. He slowly turned around and paled even further on seeing a harsh and severe look on Professor McGonagall's face.

"Come with me, Mr. Malfoy. I will be discussing your misbehaviour with your Head of the House.", she said in an unnervingly calm voice.

He mumbled something so quietly even my enhanced hearing could only make out two words "my father". I was sure she had heard it when I saw the predatory grin appear on the cat animagus' face for an instant.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Your father will definitely hear about this. In fact, I will be personally inviting your mother and father to school to discuss it with them."

Malfoy was enough sense to realise that something had changed and went with her, head bowed down like a prisoner walking to his execution. Even last year, the stunt would have earned him nothing more than a few detentions and a loss of points, he would even have walked away free if it was Snape. Dumbledore, being used to Greek system, was rather lax when it came to dealing with rivalries and ego clashes. Athena and Ares cabins were quick to go at each other's throat but equally quick to unite their banners against an external enemy. He could no longer do that now that other schools were coming expecting a Roman stronghold. Malfoy was simply stupid enough to get caught publicly breaking rules and thus the ideal candidate to be made an example of. If Professor McGonagall had been a little more late, Ronald Weasley would have been in his place. It was simply a case of bad timing. As the mortals said, the nail that sticked out the most would get hammered.

"That would have been the best day of my life", Ronald spoke as we sat down at the table few minutes later, "If McGonagall hadn't been so scary."

Many of the others felt the same but I was thinking about something else Malfoy had said. It was concerning that noone in the Ministry cared about one of them going missing. It was possible that the Daily Prophet exaggerated it. Rita Skeeter was infamous for spinning tales out of nothing. But, I was sure that I would never be working for them in my life.

"Fred, George", Neville said, "You had Defence against Dark Arts, right? How's Moody?"

"Moody!", he said.

"How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool.", George said, who was sitting down opposite Fred.

"Supercool.", Lee Jordan spoke up from the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon."

"What was it like?", Hermione asked eagerly, "He must have taught you lots."

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning, at least to them.

"Never had a lesson like it.", Fred said.

"He knows, man.", Lee added.

"Knows what?", Ron interjected, leaning forward in interest. Luckily, Hermione was too interested in the matter to snipe at him.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it.", George said impressively.

"Doing what?", I asked amused.

"Fighting the Dark Arts.", Fred said.

"He's seen it all.", George said.

"'Mazing", Lee added.

Proudfoot was a good Auror and teacher but Moody was a war veteran. It would be interesting to see how different they were. The youngest Weasley boy dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!", he said in a disappointed voice.

X-X-X-X-X

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads. Neville might have changed a lot under our encouragement but Snape had ways to make him temporarily regress.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?", Neville asked me as Hermione was teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails. Scouring Charm was part of cosmetic charms taught to girls by a female relative or friend but it did have its uses outside beautification.

"Yeah", I replied. "Moody."

It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for the fourth year running since I joined Hogwarts and, perhaps for many more years before that. Snape had disliked all of their previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it — but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever I saw the two of them together — at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors — it looked to me like Snape was avoiding Moody's eye, whether magical or normal.

"I guess, Snape's a bit scared of him", I said amused. A bit was quite the understatement.

Neville snorted. "We both know that it's not the only reason, Iris."

Hermione said, "Iris, surely you are not the one that instigated those rumours about him, are you?"

"Hey! It's not my fault some people are gullible enough to believe anything they were told.", I replied.

She shook her head in a resigned manner as if she had given up on me but I knew she was secretly amused. Seriously, it was not that big a deal. I might have implied to a few first years that he was secretly Batman, you know, that fictional vigilante who fought crimes in Gotham city. I might have also given a few Batman comics I had acquired to anyone who did not know who Batman was. I might have no interest in making pranking a life time job like Fred and George but I liked a prank once in a while. It must have driven Snape up the wall to see that, despite his best attempts, the students were looking at him with awe and hero worship and a few even asked him for autograph. A few of the senior girls were even looking at him a little, well, differently. I refused to think about it further. I wondered whether I should be worried that even those who were old enough to know better were so easily fooled.

X-X-X-X-X

We were all looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that we arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. Neville, Hermione and I hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out our copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection_ , and waited. Perhaps, even Slytherins were looking forward to it. It was unusually quiet.

Suddenly, my danger sense went off and I slipped through the gap between bench and desk. I felt a spell pass above me and I rolled forward. I peeked through the gap slightly, my wand in my hand ready to attack and defend. I saw most of the class was hit by some minor spell or other. Neville had jumped to the side and had a wand in hand. If his grandmother was as demanding during training as she was normally, his quick reaction was to be expected. Daphne was similarly ready to defend herself. Nott had turned towards the back of the classroom and had his wand pointing that way. Considering that there was no sign of any jinx on him, I assumed he had cast the Shield charm.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE! The four of you who reacted, good reflexes, rest of you were disappointing.", Moody said, "Of course, if I had been a real enemy, all of you would have been dead in an instant."

I grimaced knowing he was right. Just because I had a danger free year did not mean I should have let my guard down. Atleast, I understood why the twins were so impressed with him.

"I hope you know the basic countercurse. Otherwise, you will remain that way the whole class.", he said taking a wand from his pocket and throwing it at Malfoy as it it was a particularly smelly fish, "I will take it back after class, blondie. No need to get too comfortable with it."

I was surprised. It seemed teachers were really going all out. Moody had practically announced to the Slytherins that Malfoy was defenseless. I always felt that Slytherin house was less of a snake pit and more of a den of jackals. Considering all the grandstanding he did by throwing around his father's name and that, unlike us, they had to suffer his presence full time, none of them would hesitate to tear him apart. It also ensured that others would behave well, I guess. After all, they would not want to end up in Malfoy's place.

Professor Moody walked along the side wall towards the front of the room, the clunking sound of the wooden foot loud enough for everyone to hear. I noticed that due to his choice of path, he would only have to worry about attacks from one direction and there was smaller area to target.

"You can put those away.", he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those won't need them."

We returned the books to our bags. He then had us arrange our desks and benches such that not only would they not hinder our mobility but also could acts as our impromptu shields all while fulfilling its primary purpose.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then", he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Proudfoot about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, vampires and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind — very behind — on dealing with curses.", said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —"

"What, aren't you staying?", Ronald Weasley blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at the boy; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled — the first time I had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?", Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. . . . Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. . . . One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head. It seemed it was indeed a magical version of Byakugan though its rolling might indicate the magical eye did not give 180 degree view simultaneously. "So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's and Hermione's. Moody pointed at the youngest male Weasley, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," Ronald spoke tentatively, "my dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," Moody said appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I saw Ronald go pale. It was an open secret that he hated spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance. Everyone was laughing — everyone except Moody and the few of us who understood how bad it was.

"Think it's funny, do you?", he growled, "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control", Moody spoke quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats . . ."

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse", Moody said, and I knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!", he barked, and everyone jumped. Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to my slight surprise, did Neville's. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. I was surprised he would do that, especially considering the current subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?", Moody spoke, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one — the Cruciatus Curse.", Neville spoke in a small but distinct voice. Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Longbottom?", he said, more ascertaining than asking, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse", Moody said.

"Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea", he said, pointing his wand at the spider.

"Engorgio!" The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I knew that if it had a voice, it would have been screaming itself hoarse. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.

"Stop it!", Hermione said shrilly. She was looking, not at the spider, but at Neville who was sitting on her other side, and following her gaze, I saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"Reducio", Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain", said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too. Right . . . anyone know any others?"

I looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, I guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. I raised my hand into the air.

"Yes?", Moody spoke, looking at me.

"Avada Kedavra", I said. Several people looked uneasily around at me.

"Ah," Moody said, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface. Moody raised his wand, and roared. "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice.", he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it, at least not with a magical shield. Only one known person has ever survived it, and she's sitting right in front of me. Now, can anyone tell me why these three curses are punished so heavily by law?"

Seeing no one else respond, I raised my hand. He gestured me to speak.

"Those spells require a certain level of negative emotions and a specific mindset."

His real eye focused on me and I had a feeling he was surprised. "Not what I was expecting to hear but you're right. Those spells all require a level of hatred beyond the capability of ordinary wizards and witches."

He growled. "Imperius Curse was modified version of a spell that was the precursor of modern day Compulsion and Confundus charm. For it to work properly, the caster would want to dominate the victim's mind, crush it. Cruciatus's an altered twisted version of an old healing spell with the purpose of torture, not that any decent healer with any sense would admit to that. The origin of the Killing Curse was a spell invented by an Arab wizard to sacrifice a goat to his god for a religious festival. It's called the Lifestock Killing spell because it could only kill ordinary animals, not humans or magical creatures. It became popular among magical farmers because it didn't make a mess. Then, a Necromancer mixed it with another curse and he got the Killing Curse, a curse that destroys the connection the soul has to it's body and sends it to . . . . wherever they go after death."

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it. I know that there are some here who grew up practicing it on ants and flys", Moody paused staring intently at the Slytherin section with his real eye leaving no doubt as to who he was talking about, "but you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it."

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again. "Now . . . those three curses — Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus — are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills . . . copy this down. . . ."

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang — but after Moody had dismissed us and we had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices. They were talking about the lesson as though it had been some sort of spectacular show.

"Neville?", Hermione said gently.

Neville looked up at us.

"Oh hello, Hermione!", he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm — I'm starving, aren't you?"

I sighed. I let Hermione take care of the issue. I was never much of a consoling person. If it was stabbing someone on the other hand. . . .

"Neville, are you all right?", Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, I'm fine", Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner — I mean lesson — what's for eating?"

"Neville, what — ?"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind us, and we turned to see Professor Moody limping toward us. All of us fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than we had yet heard.

"It's all right, sonny", he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. . . ."

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon me.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes", I replied. I was alright. Unlike Neville who had to see their broken remains every summer, I had no memories of my parents. In fact, while I respect them as people, I did not see them as my parents on an emotional level. I wondered whether Petunia turned me off from forming familial bond with any blood relatives or was it a consequence of being part god.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed me.

Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending . . . well . . . come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Neville looked pleadingly at us, but we had no excuse to give even if Neville was uncomfortable with him, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder.

X-X-X-X-X

We did not speak until we reached the Great Hall. In fact, we partook in the dinner silently until Hermione left for library after which I was beseiged by the Weasley twins.

"So, is it true?", Fred asked.

"Is what true?", I asked.

"We heard that Malfoy was given detention until the arrival of the other two schools.", George said.

"We also heard he's to assist Filch in all menial jobs without magic.", Fred said.

I sighed. "I don't know about the time limit but I know that his wand was confiscated. He's only allowed his wand in classes except those like Potions and History of Magic where there is no 'silly wand waving'."

They nodded, their faces grim with none of the usual mischievousness.

"Is Malfoy going to suffer many...bouts of misfortune?"

"That depends on his luck. . ."

". . . which doesn't seem good nowadays."

"As long as the teachers have no reason to think his bad luck is connected to you both, I could care less. I am sure you have already noticed that they are much stricter than they used to be.", I replied.

It seemed Malfoy's suffering was just beginning. I felt no sympathy for him. He should have known better than to insult their mother in public. In the past, entire families had been slaughtered for such an insult. When that Niobe woman had proclaimed that she was a better mother than Leto due to having more number of children, Appolo and Artemis had slaughtered her nine sons and daughters each and left their bloodied corpses for her to weep over. I was sure that anything Fred and George would do would be quite mild in comparison.

"Fred, George, Sirius sent me a mirror with interesting characteristics. He wants to let you take a look at it and see if you can mass produce an improved versions. If he's convinced you are as good as the stories I have told him, you will get House Black and House Potter as sponsors.", I said.

To be honest, Sirius was quite happy to help them financially but he already knew their views about charity and decided to give them a task so that they would feel they have earned it. While they had not taken Arithmancy, they were clever enough to know that I was as interested in it as they were and would help them out. It's not like we did not work together on a project before.

"Really?", Fred spoke, his earlier rough mood gone.

"Is the great Padfoot challenging us?", George said.

They looked at each other with grins on their faces and said simultaneously, "Then let him know that we Messrs. Forge and Gred Weasley accept his challenge."

I let a little bit of a smirk show on my face. "Will do, boys. You should also know that he offered to help you learn to be animagus like Marauders did, that's, if you impress him."

"Well, this keeps getting better and better."

"But the old dog expects you to take his 'little pup' under your wings and bring him to the 'awesome' path of pranksters and away from the 'boring' path of paperpushers, whatever he means.", I said.

"We get to play with enchanted mirror, learn to become animagus, corrupt a runt, Fred, did we die and go to Heaven?", George asked in awe.

"No, George, Heaven came down to us dazzled by our brilliance.", Fred replied, a cheeky grin adorning his face.

Why am I not surprised by it? Perhaps, it's because I know them so well. I had to admit I wanted to meet the brat. If there was one thing I did not like about Hogwarts, it was that it was difficult to meet people who were not in our house and year.

I had Arithmancy after dinner during which I sat with Luna. It seemed Professor Vector had decided that she was too advanced for the third year syllabus. She was given the same test as us and had aced it. After the class, Hermione and I returned to our common room and we learned that Moody had given Neville a Herbology book. It seemed he really was regretful for scaring him.

X-X-X-X-X

The next morning, when we, Neville, Hermione and I got down into the Gryffindor Common Room to head for breakfast, we found ourselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected near the portrait hole. Neville, the tallest of us, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

 **INTER SCHOOL COMPETITIONS**

 _It is to inform you that all the students who want to try out for the school Quidditch team has to submit their names to Madame Hooch on or before Friday the 18th of September. Madam Hooch will be in charge of selection of the team and her decision will be final and binding._

 _Any student who wants to represent the school in any field has to submit their name along with the respective field(s) to the Head Boy/Girl on or before Friday the 18th of September. The tryouts will depend on the number of students that had applied for a certain field. It is to be noted that, while the staff will assist if asked, the programme will be strictly student run._

"At least, we know now what others will be doing?", I quipped.

"Isn't it too much work for them though? They have to study for NEWTS too.", Hermione said.

"I can't see them complaining about it considering the level of international exposure they will be getting.", I replied.

"Are either of you going to participate?", Neville asked us.

"Of course, if I am not selected for the Triwizard Tournament, there should be something for me to do. I'll go for Transfiguration, Runes and perhaps, Quidditch. I am not sure about that."

Hermione huffed. "You're still on about that. Atleast, you are considering other options. I am going for Debate. I always loved it in the primary school. I might go for Music. My parents had pushed me into it hoping it would calm me down, which it did though, I don't know how I will bring a piano here."

Neville and I exchanged looks. Music was the key.

"I also want to participate in all the subjects but I think there's a limit to how much we can do. It would have been nice if they had written all the options and rules. How else would we know what we can take and what we can't?"

"Hermione, it's not the final list. They just wanted to know what events to run by estimating the number of students interested in it. Traditionally, it's always the host school that decides the events. Once they have the list of events, they will sent it to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. While we will have our tryouts here, they will have their own tryouts there. Only their best will come here. Even if you don't give your names now, you can give them later and join in on the tryouts.", I replied.

Hermione said, "So, that is why the other schools didn't come as soon as the classes started. According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ , all the magical schools in Europe and America, start on the first of September, a holdover from the time when September was the seventh month, you know, before Gregory calendar became the official one."

Days passed by and our lifestyle gradually changed to a more military-like one. There was now a proper time to get up and get ready. We were expected to assemble in the common room before going anywhere. When we went to breakfast, we were supposed to go in rows of two, boy and girl, lead by prefects, in the order of seniority, with the fifth and seventh years guarding the front while the sixth years guarded the back so that the 'little ones' do not 'get lost'. The same could not be done for classes for us as we had different electives. Our new Head of the House, Professor Burbage had decided that the prefects would serve as the leaders for their year and selected a boy and girl each for the lower years. Neville and I were selected though, from what I could see, there was nothing for us to do. The teachers seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to dump on us as much homework as they could on us so that we would not have much free time to partake in mischief.

As for the competition, I did not remember every event but I know there would be a quiz on all the subjects offered by Hogwarts though I was not sure about their practical portions. There was Debate, Music, Dancing, Drawing, Cooking then there was Chess, Gobstones, Dueling and something called Curling which was supposed to be some native Scottish sport. Some of the events even had Junior and Senior division, the senior division being from fifth year onwards.

Hermione got into debate and the junior division of quiz, for the subjects she took, just like she wanted. I would have tried for duelling but with the Triwizard Tournament, I decided not to risk it and settled for quiz and broom racing. Neville got into Herbology as expected. Dean Thomas was apparently a good artist and got into Drawing. The biggest surprise however was that Hogwarts champion for junior division of chess was Ronald Weasley. To think he had it in him, appearances were truly deceiving in that case. An interesting rule that existed solely for the chess tournament was that the winner of junior division could participate in the senior division thus giving the winning school a distinct advantage. The fact that other schools agreed to it meant they had their own prodigies to unleash on us. Ronald also got selected for Cooking which he must have inherited from his mother. Hopefully, he would at least wait for the judges to grade the food before consuming it.

In addition to that, Luna got the permission to start a school newspaper which she named Hogwarts Herald. It was expected to cover Triwizard Tournament and Inter School Competitions along with the day to day happenings in Hogwarts. From what she told me, the Ministry, for some reason, had restricted the printing presses to such an extent that only those with a special Ministry sanctioned license were legally allowed to own them. There had not been any new newspapers for a long time. Luna was actually using Quibbler's old printing press. She had hired Creevey brothers as her photographers for which she needed my permission as their sponsor which was how I came to know about it. She also asked for and got Professor Burbage's permission as the magical guardian.

When Professor McGonagall gave that speech in the beginning about our House being like our family, she meant it quite literally. The Houses of Hogwarts were equivalent to the pureblood Houses when it came to protecting those under its banner. The Head of a House of Hogwarts acted as the magical guardian for all the muggleborns and halfbloods of the house who did not have a magical relative to fill that role. In my first year, McGonagall had ordered Nimbus 2000 in my name as my magical guardian. The broom company was paid directly from the Potter family vault and the company delivered it to me. She could not withdraw anything from my vaults without my permission which was due to the bylaws of House Potter rather than limits on the authority of the magical guardian. It became a moot point the moment I touched the Invisibility Cloak as the handing over of the heirloom was the traditional way of the family to declare the heir.

As for the classes, it was the same old, same old. Transfiguration classes were basically self-study hour. Animus to Inanimus or living being to object transfigurations were too simple for me. Charms classes consisted of Summoning and Banishing charms which I had long since mastered. Why the hell was I going to class anyway? In Runes, we were studying the Germanic runes, also known as Norse runes. The interesting fact was that to properly understand and use runes, you must have an understanding of the people used it and the pantheon they worshipped. For example, Norse rune for strength always referred to the physical strength because that was what Vikings treasured the most. To enhance magical strength, you had to couple it with rune for chaos, which referred to Loki, god of Magic. Similarly, a fire rune could refer to any fire ranging from candle flame to inferno, light, god of Fire or god of Sun. It all depended on the context. Potions class consisted of poisons and its antidotes.

In the Defense class, after the mind blowing first lesson, Moody did not even once mention the Unforgivables. I was sure that following up Disarming charm with the Stunner had become an ingrained habit for all of us considering the practice he had us do. Even the worst student had managed to succeed at using the basic Shield. Then again, considering the way he went around hexing us at his whims, someone had to be certain extreme kind of incompetent to not have learned to shield themselves. Some of us mastered it of course. Protego was a very versatile spell. Its base form was a full body shield. If the incoming spell was line of action spell and we knew where it would strike, we could use a much smaller shield around that area which would result in higher concentration of magic there and thus stronger shield. Parrying worked on that principle. Concentrate the shield to the wand point and we get one strong enough to deflect almost all curses. Another use was that if we knew the incoming spell, we could calibrate the shield to it. In that case, the shield would be extremely strong against the particular spell and weak, if not downright non existent, against others. That's the reason it was necessary for anyone who fights for living to master non verbal spells, whether they be Aurors, Hit wizards, Duellists. I had to admit though that whoever created the spell was a genius.

Moody told us a bit about other spells did not demonstrate it. He told us the Protego charm was enough for us. I wondered whether it was his way of enticing us into Auror Corps. There was the Protego Maxima which was the overpowered version of Protego charm. It was so powerful that it was usually used as a ward rather than a shield. There was Protego totalum which had the same defensive properties as Protego maxima but also bent light around it like Invisibility Cloaks which hid those inside from those outside. Then there was Protego Horriblis which was very good against Dark Arts but horrible against others. Even for borderline dark spells like Bone Breakers, it was better than the original. The three variations, though, were not as flexible as the original which did not gain favour with the common wizard folk. Then there was a spell more popularly known as Mage Shield which he did not speak much about but I knew about it. A magical child of Athena had, after thoroughly studying Aegis shield for some time, created a spell version of it that invoked the goddess' power. But, unlike the original, you had to stay stationary while the spell was in effect. I also heard that there was a spell version of Ajax's shield but I did not know much about it.

During that time, the castle was undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning the likes of which it probably had not seen in centuries. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. It was in the midst of it all that another notice was given.

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

 _The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

The appearance of the sign everywhere in the school had a clear effect on the residents of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where we went: the Triwizard Tournament. The reminder had put all thoughts of other competitions out of their mind. After all, they started only during eighteenth century while Hero's Cup had existed many centuries prior to that creating legends as much as the quests and missions did. Rumors were flying from student to student like a virus: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from us. The teachers, on the other hand, were getting more and more stressed as the day came closer. I believed, they would have already snapped, had it not been for the help and support of the new assistant teachers, who had fit into the Hogwarts staff life as if they had always been there.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

"It's a bummer, all right", George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?", Ronald said, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would.", Fred replied, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?", Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother.", George replied.

"Weasley, can't you see that they're in a bad mood? Leave it.", I said.

Ronald Weasley kept quiet for a moment sulking and then started gobbling up food.

"Have you found how the champions are selected?", I asked.

"I asked McGonagall but she wasn't telling.", George replied bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

I nodded, having my suspicions confirmed. "Don't think ill of her. I think she literally could not tell you anything. If she could, she would have given you some clue or hint vague enough that she's not breaking any rules but clear enough for someone clever and resourceful to work it out. It's like that enchantment on the Hat that stops us from revealing the secret of Sorting to those who don't know."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I was so scared when I realised I couldn't tell my parents how we were Sorted. I even tried to hint at it like telling them 'it's something I put on my head' but I couldn't write it down. Professor McGonagall told me it was a safety measure taken during the old days when the blood feuds were more common."

"Well, we know that it's a magical artifact which chooses the champion. It doesn't help much but it's better than not knowing anything.", George said resigned.

"Who decides the winner of the Tournament anyway?", Neville asked.

"It is not a single person. It's a panel of judges though I don't know who all are part of it. Maybe, it's covered under the pesky enchantment too.", Fred replied. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel", Hermione said, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage.

"I suppose it's all in the _Hogwarts, A History_.", I said amused.

She let out a frustrated sigh and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "Yes. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. _A Revised History of Hogwarts_ would be a more accurate title. Or _A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School_."

"What are you on about?", Ron asked. I wondered whether the boy was really that oblivious or he was ignoring her hatred of him. Then again, if the twins had not exaggerated when they told me about their mother, Hermione's behaviour might not phase him at all.

"House-elves!", Hermione said, her eyes flashing in anger. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

"So, that was the top secret debate topic you didn't want us to know.", Neville said.

Hermione's eyes widened and cheeks flushed as she realised that she had inadvertently given away her secret. Ronald Weasley had that effect on her. I hoped her extreme comments on the topic were due to the irritation at his presence.

"Be careful about making accusations without being backed by reliable evidence. You don't want people to think you are the next Rita Skeeter, do you, spinning tall tales out of nothing."

She sighed. "It's not like I want to accuse people or think ill of them. But there's nothing about house elves in any of the books. Why would anyone go to such lengths to hide it if it was not unpleasant?"

"You know, I am quite interested in their origins myself. With everything else going on, it's never been much of a priority.", I said.

"I don't know much about their origins myself. I will ask Gran, if you want. You should know, though, the house elves, they are called house elves for a reason. They need to bond with a House to survive. Without the bond, they will slowly go mad and die. In the war, a lot of Houses went extinct and their elves died with them.", Neville said his voice taking a sombre tone at the end.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?", George asked.

"No, of course not,", Hermione said curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to —"

"Well, we have,", George said, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world. That's not the point. The point is that as long as you can accept that their work is as important to them as pranks are to us and academics is to you, they will be happy to tell you about their bond. You can ask them questions and see how it is from their side."

"If that's not enough, you can question the portraits and ghosts. I am sure they have a lot of knowledge living are not privy to. Take care not to get caught up in their games though.", I said.

I was interested to see what she would learn from there. Hopefully, she would not get herself kicked out of the kitchens. Hermione Granger was not famous for her social skills, more for the lack of it.

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AN : I usually make reliable explanations rather than changing anything but I can't think of an explanation for why anyone would give a 14 year old a time turner for attending more classes if it was as dangerous and restricted as JKR implied. So, I changed it to such that rules and limits were as applicable to Hermione Granger as it was to ordinary wizards and witches.

For the origin of Killing Curse, I was actually referring to the Bakrid festival of Muslims. Hopefully, none of them are offended. I just wanted to show that just because you are a wizard doesn't mean you have to stop believing in God and that even things created for good can be used for evil.

A reviewer asked me about using Veritaserum on demigods to ascertain their loyalty. Veritaserum works on demigods but using it's a bad idea. Veritaserum is basically liquid Imperius except that you're only forced to tell the truth and only the truth. We know that Kronos can get inside demigods' heads and whisper evil thoughts. Giving them Veritaserum is like bringing down their defences and giving Kronos free reign. Even if Kronos decides to not interfere, there is the fact that how much is appropriate for a demigod; too little and you can't trust the results, too much and you poison them. It's restricted for a reason.

I want to thank jbern for helping me realise that I need not go with the canon TWT with his magnificent story The Lie I've Lived. I had decided to add a few extra and change a few things.


	3. Choosing of Champions

**POTTER FILES: THE HERO'S CUP**

Chapter 3: Choosing of Champions

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson nor do I share the views and beliefs of the characters unless I stated otherwise.

Note: The timeline of the HP universe has been changed to fit PJO universe. Some slight changes have been made to HP canon to fit girl Harry. So, Iris(fem!Harry) Potter was born on 31 July 1993 and COS happened in 2005-2006.

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You might have already read it many times but this chapter is in Iris' Pov.

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There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Hermione, Neville and I hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

We ordered ourselves into lines as usual but this time we had the youngsters at the front with the seniority rising towards the back. Our Head of the House, Professor Charity Burbage, lead us this time. Even after two months, it was weird to see someone other than McGonagall leading us. I had to admit though that she rose up to our expectations. She could be kind and approachable to the first years and stern and unrelenting to the miscreants who crossed the line.

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. After the other Houses arrived, we spread out in such a way that every year formed a row with the tallest on both sides and the shortest in the middle. The transition was smooth due to the amount of times we practiced during the last few weekends. I noticed, to my amusement, that, to the visitors, we would look like four army divisions with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the middle and Gryffindor and Slytherin coming up the flanks.

It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. All of us wondered when and how the other schools would arrive but none of us opened our mouths. Even the most unruly ones learned that any faltering in discipline would only result in more of our free time being taken up by practices. Peer pressure was an unrelenting force that fell even the most stubborn ones. There were of course many speculations about the method of their arrival ranging from broomsticks, port keys to flying carpets. Someone suggested Apparition but Hermione firmly shut them down by saying Apparition was impossible inside Hogwarts grounds as written in her holy book. While it's usually true, I knew that the Headmaster had the authority to temporarily lift those restrictions.

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance.

It was then that I saw it, a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of the mechanical Colchis bulls. It took some time for the others to spot what I did and some more for them to recognise it.

The carriage hurtled even lower startling the front rows of students to move backwards forcing us to reciprocate. The horse hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground at a tremendous speed slightly in front of the first row of students causing them to jump back squeaking. I had a feeling it was quite intentional, a show of skill and finese. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes. I recognized them alright. They were the descendants of the steeds that drove the Sun chariot.

As the door of the carriage opened, I absently noted the symbol on it, two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage — a shoe the size of a child's sled — followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had ever seen in my life. The reason for the size of the carriage, and of the horses, was obvious. She was part giant.

Madame Maxime had a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

I idly wondered how many European languages had 'h' silent.

"In excellent form, I thank you.", Dumbledore said.

"My pupils", Madame Maxime said, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

The students had all emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. Most of them seemed to be in their late teens but some of them to the back looked younger. Perhaps, they were here for the junior division of the events. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. I could see that they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces. I knew that Greek and Roman demigods felt an innate sense of danger and hostility when they were in the vicinity of the other's territory. I did not know if it extended to the magicals under their aegis.

Suddenly, there was a sound like that of an explosion and it was them who were jumping back and screaming in fear. The screams were clearly feminine but there was no way to know whether they came from female or male mouth. Madame Maxime was in front of them, holding a wand that was as much of a giant as she was, protecting them with her bulk. She realised it was not necessary when one of her students pointed at the sky. In sky above the castle, it was written 'Welcome to Hogwarts' at the top in English, at the bottom in French with Beauxbatons coat of arms in the middle. They faded away and was replaced by 'Messers Fred and George Weasley of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' and the 'Messers' changed to 'Monsiuers' for the French version. The Weasley twins were not going to ignore such a prime opportunity for marketing on an international level just because they were miffed at being passed over for Hero's Cup.

"I apologise, on behalf of my students, for scaring yours.", Dumbledore said jovially, "I am afraid they became too enthusiastic about welcoming you."

"Eet was an entertaining display.", she replied nodding. Well played, old man.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?", Madame Maxime asked looking around.

"He should be here any moment.", Dumbledore said. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think", Madame Maxime said. "But ze 'orses —"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them.", Dumbledore said, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges."

"My steeds require — er — forceful 'andling.", Madame Maxime said, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong. . . ."

I did not think she was being insulting. If they were as . . . . difficult as their ancestors, they would require force to keep them in line. Once Selene had tried to pet her brother's steeds and they set fire to her hair. Helios had found it funny but she was furious. At night, after he went to sleep, she threw them into the sea. He did not find it out until the next morning and immediately went in search of them. They survived but they had developed an intense fear of any large bodies of water.

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job.", said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime said, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

We stood, shivering slightly, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then —

I could then hear something; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. . . .

"The lake!", yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

After years of being the commentator for Quidditch, it was not surprising that he was the first to spot the action. From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water — except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. . . . What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then I saw the rigging. . . . It's a mast.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. It seemed, just like we repurposed an old steam train, they took over an old pirate ship. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, we heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

They disembarked the ship and approached us. As they came nearer, I noticed that, unlike the previous group, all of them were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!", he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff", Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee, finishing in a small curl did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

It kickstarted the next set of fireworks, this time in English and German. Unlike the Beauxbaton students, they did not react much. They casually looked at the fireworks, and after it was over, turned back. I wondered what kind of life they had in their school that they were indifferent towards fireworks and explosions.

"Some things change, some things stay the same. Dear old Hogwarts, how I have missed you", he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and I noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "Come along, into the warmth, boys and girls . . . you don't mind, do you Dumbledore? We've had a rather long journey."

Dumbledore moved aside and waved his hand in a grand gesture. "No, I don't mind. I hope your students enjoy their time here."

I looked around at others. Perhaps, it was because I knew him better or they were too busy ogling the International Seeker Victor Krum, but no one else seemed to have noticed that Dumbledore's welcome was less warm and sincere with Durmstrang than Beauxbatons.

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The moment we entered the Great Hall, we noticed that it was different from the usual. Along with the four House tables and the staff table, there were two smaller tables, one between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and the other between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The Durmstrang students went straight to the table next to Slytherin leaving the other to Beauxbaton students. We went over to the Gryffindor table and sat down.

I noticed that the Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed. It seemed the rumour that the students at Durmstrang lived a spartan lifestyle were true. The students from Beauxbatons, on the other hand, were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads. They were not very impressed.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. I noted that there were four empty chairs I could not account for, two on either side of the Headmaster. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests.", said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!", Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast.", Dumbledore said. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Karkaroff leaned forward at once and engaged him in conversation. I went back to my dinner trying out the new foreign dishes that were available.

"Look who's arrived?", Hermione said.

I looked up at the staff table and saw that the previously empty seats were now occupied. I recognised Ludo Bagman sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, considering the ridiculous reasons he got into newspaper you had have to live under a rock not to, and Bartemius Crouch, next to Madame Maxime but not the other two. The male amongst them was practically what would come to your mind if anyone asked you what a typical French aristocrat looked like, tall, handsome, with greying blond hair tied in a ponytail. The female was, well I was not sure whether it was just me, she looked a lot like Snape. While she did not have his greasy hair, there were a few similarities like their prominent nose, chin and the way they held themselves.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. I felt a slight thrill of excitement, knowing what was coming. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come.", Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket. It's just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation", there was a smattering of polite applause which was acknowledged by a stoic face, "Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports", there was a much louder applause for him which he answered by a jovial wave of his hand, "his French counterpart Jean-Louis Cassiel", most of the applause was from Beauxbatons students, and then from other girls, well he was handsome, "his Scandinavian counterpart Esmeralda de Prince", similar to Madam Greengrass' introduction, boys were quite eager to show their approval.

"The four of them have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament.", Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions", the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, Monsieur Cassiel and Senorita de Prince", Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament.", Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. It was exactly as I saw in the dream.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet.", Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore said, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

It was Saturday, the day most students would have slept in but, as it was the day champions were chosen, we were not the only ones who get up early. When we went down into the entrance hall, we saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Hero's Cup. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?", I asked Demelza Robbins, a Gryffindor girl in Ginny's year.

"All the Durmstrang lot.", she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"I am sure many of them put it in, last night, after we'd all gone to bed.", I said, "And many more must have tried and failed, with no one to witness their humiliation."

I heard a familiar sound of laughter coming from behind me. Turning, I saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Neville, Hermione and me.

"Just taken it."

"The Aging Potion?", I asked more for confirmation than interest. After all, it was not like they bothered to keep it secret.

"One drop each.", George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins.", Lee said, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know.", Hermione, good old Hermione, warned them. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Luckily, Fred, George, and Lee ignored her. It was not every day that they were the recipient of someone else's pranks.

"Ready?", Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

I watched, eagerly, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words _Fred Weasley — Hogwarts_. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a moment, nothing happened. George, believing they had succeeded, let out a yell of triumph and jumped in. But the next moment, both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been shot from a giant catapult. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

It seemed they did not consider that Age Line measured the age of their magic rather than the physical age though, to their credit, they did not have the time to research it. Ageing potions and Polyjuice potions only changed the physical age. Otherwise, drinking a Polyjuice potion with Dumbledore's hair in it would have been enough to make someone one of the most powerful wizards ever. Only way I knew to increase magical age was to live extra using a time turner. Even possessions were not something I was sure of.

Then there was the fact that there were other wards which Dumbledore had not spoken of. There was a ward that cancelled the active spells on anything passing through it around two feet beyond the Age Line. There was a particularly clever student who stood outside the Age Line, transfigured his piece of parchment into a bird and had it fly through but on passing through the ward, it reverted into the piece of parchment which fell on to the floor and vanished, perhaps another ward. It also stopped another student's attempt to levitate the piece of parchment into the goblet. There was an Anti-Projectile ward which burned up any pieces that were banished or simply thrown. It was close enough to the goblet that anyone who chose that method left believing they had succeeded.

The entrance hall rang with laughter at their new appearance. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you.", said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and the other students, who were also laughing, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed that morning. As it was Halloween, or All Hallows Eve for those practicing the old ways, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Neville went over to sit with Ronald, Dean and Seamus while we went to sit with Ginny.

"Have you heard about what happened to the twins?", I asked.

"Let me guess. They used the Ageing potion to get across but ended up with a beard.", she replied.

"That's a good guess.", Hermione said.

"I grew up with them. I believe I can predict what they would do in any situation.", she replied.

We heard cheering out in the entrance hall. We all swiveled around in our seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Angelina came over to us, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"Are you seventeen, then?", I asked her.

"I had my birthday last week.", Angelina said.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione.", Angelina said, smiling at her.

We talked about others who were entering and their chances until we finished breakfast and then left the Hall. The students, atleast the older ones, from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks. When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

We went back to our dorms and I spent my time catching up on the much needed sleep. Don't judge me. It was the last free day we would having. After lunch, Hermione, Neville and I stayed at the entrance hall and watched the others putting their name in. We were there when the Head Boy and Head Girl came to put their names in, close to dinner time. Evelyn Rosier was a tall, pale skinned Slytherin girl with shoulder length dark hair that curled to the end. Hermione and I were on speaking terms with her after all the time we went to her asking questions about the competition. We introduced her to Neville and she, in turn, introduced us to the Head Boy. Larson Turpin was a tall boy with curly, shoulder length hair. He was good looking in a nerdy sort of way. I could see the resemblance with his sister Lisa. His friendly, laid back manner was in direct contrast to Rosier's reserved stance yet also complementing. There was a good chance they would get together this year, if they were not already in a relationship. Head Boys and Head Girls had a history of getting together. Working together as part of their duties tended to bleed on to the other sides of life like it did for my mortal parents. Having to organise an international competition together would only increase those chances.

By the time we entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George — clean-shaven again — seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina.", Fred said as Neville, Hermione and I sat down.

"So do I!", Hermione replied.

"Well, we'll know soon enough.", I said.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, I simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students and Mr. Cassiel gave everyone a friendly smile while Ms. de Prince and Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision.", Dumbledore said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber", he indicated the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . . "Any second", Lee Jordan whispered from the seat next to the twins.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang", he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!", Ron yelled as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. I wondered whether he, well, played for the other side. He had been exhibiting weird behaviour over the past day, ogling Victor Krum, drooling over him . . . Well, if he was attracted to the same gender, it's his life, his choices and I was not going to judge him for it.

I saw Viktor Krum rise from his table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. I had a feeling that he was not really interested in the tournament and would have preferred to stay out of it.

"Bravo, Viktor!", Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The other Durmstrang students looked resigned rather than disappointed. Many were shooting their Headmaster fierce glares when they believed no one was looking. It seemed Karkaroff was not very popular among his students. I wondered whether it was because he was an alumni of Hogwarts.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons.", Dumbledore announced, "is Fleur Delacour!"

A tall girl with silvery, blond hair, who many people had claimed was a Veela, stood up and walked off into the side chamber.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed.", Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

"Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, I thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. I could see that they were not happy tears. What a disgrace!

The hall fell silent again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . . The moment of truth.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion", Dumbledore said, "is Iris Potter!"

The hall fell silent but this time it was from shock rather than excitement. I did not understand why. It was not like I was Ronald Weasley or anything. Then again, none of my fellow students except Hermione and Neville had witnessed my adventures and even they were not there for the 'end boss battle' let alone my quests. To their credit, I did hear some clapping just before I entered the chamber.

X-X-X-X-X

The chamber itself was a small room lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite me. The faces in the portraits turned to look at me as I entered. I saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Fleur Delacour looked around at me when I walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?", she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

Her eyes locked with mine and suddenly it happened. Her eyes turned into a slitted yellow ones more akin to a reptile, her nose elongated into the top portion of a wicked beak while mouth transformed into the lower portion, her skin shifted colour to a deep red to brown and grew scales, her ears grew pointy, her hands shifted into claws, her feet grew talons, two curved horns grew on her head, her form became more hunched and giant scaled wings erupted from her back. The final image was so horrifying it would have caused nightmares for someone with 'less steel in their spine' as the saying went. It was basically the appearance attributed to demons of Christianity.

I blinked my eyes and the blue eyes of the silvery blond beauty stared back. It seemed I had accidentally used my spirit vision and saw her other form. The ability to use spirit sight was something all demigods had, to varying extents, but only gods could control it completely and use it at will, at least as far as I knew. I now understand why most unaware demigods believed that their minds fell asleep or that they were hallucinating. Shifting back into normal sight was disorienting.

Well, at least I knew for sure that she was a Veela. I was not sure whether it was a good thing or bad thing. Veela . . . had a complicated history. I did not know much about the details but I knew for a fact that the Veela were the offspring of the union between the Norse goddess of Love Freya and the dwarves. If we ignored the fact that Empousa drank blood while Veela feasted on the flesh, Veela could be considered the Norse version of Empousas. Like Empousas or Sirens, Veela were always female but unlike them, if the victim was a good looking and healthy specimen of a male, Veela impregnated themselves by . . . forcing themselves on the victim before eating them like a winged version of Black Widow spiders. There were times when they kept men as thralls if they were 'interesting' enough. All the wild tales about succubus actually referred to them though i did not know whether they could actually considered demons. Their presence revitalised seidr, Freya's cult of sorceresses, and made them a force to be reckoned with though their matriarchal stance did not earn them many friends in the patriarchal society that Norse pantheon was.

Then the wand users became prominent and organised themselves as a community and suddenly the humans were not easy prey any more. Just like with every other race, the wizards waged a war with them too, with secret or not-so-secret backing of Greco-Roman pantheon of course. The Veela might have been superior individually but against an organised squad, they faltered. Humans had always had the knack for succeeding against long odds.

That's not considering the rumours of them being hunted down by the Stars of David, a secret division of highly trained wizards loyal to the Church. Yes, you heard it right. I was surprised too when I heard it. Apparently, they did not hate all the magicals, just the witches, in the old meaning of the word. It would be weird for them to hate magicals when all their important guys, like Abraham, David, Solomon were magicals. They believed that magic, or whatever they called it, was Big G's gift to humanity and praying to someone else was like being ungrateful or something. They even had an Angel of Sorcery, Marut or Harut or something.

I was not sure how true it was but there were many people who believed that Holy Church was responsible for the widespread use of the wand and the neutral spells as it nullified our dependance on gods to act as the middle men. As I could not see any of the pantheon gods encouraging practices that would result in less prayers and sacrifices for them, it must be quite true.

Anyway, the Veela eventually lost the war and were restricted to patches of land in the few countries they were not banned from. The relations between the two races warmed with time, enough that they were appointed as the mascots of Bulgaria for the Quidditch World Cup.

"They didn't tell me anything. So, I believe they intend to debrief us here.", I replied.

She looked at me as if I had said something that baffled her. "But-"

The door behind us opened, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Cassiel and Ms. de Prince. I heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door. It seemed the door and, perhaps even the walls, had Impermutable Charms.

"Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen!", Ludo Bagman bellowed enthusiastically at us, "The three of you have been selected for the One Hundred and Twentieth Edition of Triwizard Tournament."

"Evidently zair 'as been a mistake, Meester Bagman.", she said frowning. "She cannot be the Hogwarts champion. She ees too young."

"Well . . . that is what makes it so amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at me. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. The Goblet itself doesn't consider the age while selecting the appropriate champions. The times in which it was crafted . . . it's different times . . . much harsher . . ."

I wondered for a moment whether he was a demigod himself. Perhaps, he was part fairy or leprechaun considering his height (lack of) and body structure. I decided it was not important at the moment.

"Madame Maxime!", Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little girl ees to compete also!"

Despite myself, I felt a ripple of anger that I kept myself from showing on my face. Just because I was short did not mean I was weak.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her head brushed the candle filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"Madamoiselle Delacour, petite though she may be, she ees not to be underestimated. Ze girl ees Dumbly-door's apprenti.", she chastised imperiously, which caused the Veela girl to duck her head, her cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. "It's less concerning she was chosen, Dumbly-door, more zat she was chosen two times."

What? I must have spoken out in astonishment but no one turned to me as the others were more vocal. It even gained the attention of Victor Krum who stopped brooding in the corner and turned towards the adults with a scowl on his face.

"She might not be concerned but I am. We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore.", Karkaroff said, wearing his steely smile, though his eyes were as cold as ice. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"Don't play the wounded party, Karkaroff.", Professor McGonagall said angrily, "I'll have you know that many of your younger students tried to bypass the protections. There's no need to be petty just because Ms. Potter succeeded where they failed."

Good old Minnie. You could take her out of Gryffindor but you could not take Gryffindor out of her.

"Well, then, let us hear your justification, _Professor_ McGonagall", Karkaroff said coldly, "why was it Dumbledore's apprentice that was chosen? Why does she get two shots at each task?"

"Zair ees no need for 'ostilities, Monsieur, Madame.", Mr. Cassiel spoke gently, but with a firm undertone that showed he was no Gilderoy Lockhart, "It might not be anyone's fault. Ze Goblet was idle for two centuries. It's possible that many of the old enchantments had worn out."

There was an uneasy silence following that statement. None of the ones present wanted to consider the consequences of the Goblet being faulty, especially those of us who were bound to it by magic.

"I am afraid the situation is not so simple, Albus.", Moody's voice came startling us all, "There are signs of tampering on the Goblet."

Well, it was not surprising that a veteran Auror of his standard entered undetected.

"Well, what did you find, Alastor?", Dumbledore asked him.

"You know I am no Curse Breaker, Albus. But whoever tampered with it cast such an overpowered Confundus charm that the traces are still there. I assume they confunded the Goblet to believe that there are four competing schools and put Potter's name in the fourth to ensure her selection as the only one in her category.", Moody replied gruffly.

"Was it Miss Potter?"

Moody shook his head, his grizzled hair shifting to and fro. "No. I am sure it's not the lass. Her magical signature is too distinctive for me to not recognise. Whoever it's, I don't think they had good intentions for her in their mind. Call it a gut feeling if you will."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"Professor Dumbledore, would you mind if I have a look at the extra one?", I asked.

He handed it over to me as he saw no reason to reject it. I looked it over feeling the texture and even smelling it. Everyone's attention was on me waiting for my opinion.

"It was torn off from my History of Magic assignment."

"And you learnt it by . . . smelling the parchment?", Madame Maxime spoke with a weird look on her face. Professor McGonagall sighed as if she had an idea what was coming and Professor Dumbledore looked amused.

"Of course not. My handwriting here is sloppy meaning I wrote it half asleep.", I replied as if it should have been obvious.

If my life was an anime, I was sure I would have seen many people faceplanting on the ground with many exclamation marks hovering over their head. I noticed Karkaroff nodding his head in agreement before he stopped suddenly as if he just remembered that he was supposed to be the pissed off Headmaster of foreign school who should be demanding more concessions. History of Magic had that effect on all Hogwarts graduates. Trolling people was fun. No wonder Luna did it so often.

Ever since our History Professor became the Ghost Professor, the students were expected to do our assignments and tests in a more expensive parchment treated with Parson's solution grade two to increase its magical sensitivity and retentivity, which was necessary for him to be able to read, and imbued with a charm called Ghost's Touch, created by a wizard child of Hades, which allowed Professor Binns to hold and correct assignments and tests like a regular teacher. After all, ghosts had vastly diminished senses as they were mostly there and barely here. I still remembered that, for Nick's Death Day, they arranged for food rotten for months because it was the only thing they could smell and taste. Other teachers needed only grade one, enough to verify that it was the named person that did it, and so did all the usual forms Ministry or other organisations used. I used grade three for the Map. It was an important distinction as only the nameslip torn off my History of Magic assignment would have had enough of my magical signature still left in it for the Goblet to detect. Whether it was enough to bind me, I did not know.

It at least showed that, whoever put my name in, did not do it just to send a message but really wanted me to participate. It also revealed that the culprit was a Hogwarts alumni if not a current student to know such tidbit. I was sure that at least Dumbledore and Moody arrived at the same conclusion after I revealed the origin of the extra piece of parchment. I did wonder why he simply did not put my name in Hogwarts category and confounded it to select me. Would it not have been easier and more guaranteed to work? Then again, there must have been greater protections to overcome for that.

"Hmph! So, you are telling us that . . . your investigation revealed enough to declare the girl innocent but not to find the culprit. Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?", Karkaroff said.

"Don't worry. I intend to do the investigation myself, Karkaroff, that's if the Ministry doesn't mind.", Moody growled, "I might be too old to keep up with the youngsters in the field but I haven't forgotten anything I have learned and taught in the Corps. It might take some time considering how many different kinds of scum have come in to the country for the tournament waving their Diplomatic Immunities but I assure you I will catch them with my own hands."

The fact that Moody's real eye was focused on Karkaroff left no doubt to anyone present as to who he considered prime suspect.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime. The news of your escapades have even reached the North.", said Karkaroff loudly. "I heard you recently got it into your head your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't have the same level of confidence in your investigation . . . . as many others do."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage.", Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember. . . ."

"Alastor!", said Dumbledore warningly. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff's face was burning with anger and perhaps, humiliation.

"If everyone's need for dramatics is satisfied", Ms. de Prince drawled startling those who had forgotten that she was present, "perhaps, it's time to check the prospective participants' connection to the Goblet . . . Mr. Crouch."

He moved forward out of the shadows and approached us. Close up, he looked quite ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin. He seemed old and weary. Even if he managed to cling on to his position after the Black fiasco, as it was called, it seemed he did not get away unscathed.

He first did a spell on Victor Krum which involved waving his wand about him. A blue aura surrounded the Durmstrang champion and a thin, pale blue tube of light originated from him and went through the closed door to the Great Hall and consequently the Goblet. The exact same thing happened later with Fleur Delacour and I.

"It seems that Miss Potter's legitimate selection as the Hogwarts champion invalidated the extra selection or it was invalid to begin with.", Crouch spoke softly.

Bagman spoke, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Well, now that the confusion is over, it's time to give our champions their instructions. Barty, want to do the honors?"

"The first task is designed to test your daring.", Barty Crouch told the three of us, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. In fact, all of us have taken an Unbreakable Vow in that regard, so don't expect to get anything by pestering us. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament unless we specifically state otherwise before the task. The champions will face the first challenge armed with only a single magical implement, be they wand or enchanted weapon. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from their usual classes and the end-of-year tests though I would advise you to attend them anyway as the spells taught there could be useful for the tasks."

He turned to look at Mr. Cassiel and turned back to look at us, more specifically the Beauxbatons champion and said, his unhappiness clear for all to see, "For those . . . . with inherited abilities, they are allowed to use it as long as they use it in conjunction with their spells. The choice of spell work is one of the categories being graded during the tasks, others being strategy and execution."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so.", Dumbledore said looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry.", Mr. Crouch replied. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. . . . I've left young Weatherby in charge. . . . Very enthusiastic . . . a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told. . . ."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?", Dumbledore offered.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!", Bagman said brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo.", Crouch said with a touch of impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Monsieur Cassiel, Señorita de Prince, a nightcap?", said Dumbledore.

Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff declined the offer and left with their champions. The other two left right after that suggesting the need of good sleep.

"Iris, if you wouldn't mind indulging the curiosity of an old man, how did you get past the Age Line and the other protections?", Dumbledore asked me.

I could see that he was geniunely curious and I felt pride at having got one past Albus Dumbledore.

"I did what any wizard would do.", I replied, "I asked an owl to do it."

I knew that it was not exactly true. It was what I called Luna logic, something most of my acquaintances seemed to believe was as mythical as the creatures she talked about. After all, neither Dumbledore nor his predecessors had thought of a proper Elf ward as necessary until Dobby showed how much of a security risk they were. A ward prohibiting foreign elves from coming to Hogwarts was a bad idea as the free elves who had a choice chose to come here rather than end up in the elf shop in Knockturn Alley. They put elves in a tiny cages hanging from the ceiling and the customers were mostly like Malfoys who wanted elves that meekly took their abuse. So, Albus added a ward that barred the bound foreign elves from entering and directed any free elves into a specially designed room from which they could only get out after binding themselves to the school.

"An interesting strategy", Dumbledore said contemplating, "I assumed, erroneously as it seems now, that you would use your unique Cloak."

"I prefer not to be dependent on it, Professor.", I replied.

He nodded. "It's good to hear you say that. Muggles have a saying about that, something about eggs and basket. Too many people, young and old, do not heed that piece of advise. I believe it's time for you to return to your dorms. I am sure your House mates are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

As Dumbledore predicted, there was a celebration in the Gryffindor Common Room. As I was not much of a party person, I slipped out as soon as I could. Soon, I got into my bed and had a wonderful sleep.

X-X-X-X-X

After spending the Sunday sleeping off and working on a few interesting things, Monday afternoon had me going to the same chamber for the Wand Weighing Ceremony, which, as far as I could understand, was to ensure that our wands did not violate the regulations, whatever they were. I noticed that that there were few changes. The room itself seemed bigger and much more spacious. There was an elevated platform opposite the entrance which did not exist last time. There was a velvet covered table on it behind which the seven judges were seated. We took our seats right in front of the table but on the lower ground. The press quickly got themselves seated by the door like hungry predators blocking the only avenue of exit for the prey.

There were rumours that someone at Daily Prophet tried to get exclusive access but was firmly rejected. Considering stuck up and self righteous attitude of Barty Crouch, if it was just up to him, he would have backed them up saying the Ministry approved newspaper was more than enough to cover the Tournament. The representatives of foreign Ministries put enough pressure on him that he had to allow one newspaper each for the countries of the other champions. From France came La Beaute Parisienne (The Parisian Beauty). It was kind of obvious who was backing them. Bulgaria sent Magicheski novina (The Magical News). It was a good thing they thought to put pronunciations and meaning in English as I did not know either of the languages.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?", Dumbledore spoke, "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?", said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm . . .", he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes", he said quietly, "nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me . . ."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela.", Fleur said proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes", said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands. It seems Yvonne had somehow made it work though, not surprising that, as a Veela, she would have better understanding of the material than us. It suits you well."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order.", said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand.

"Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duckfooted, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes. The wand was different from any other that I had seen. It was thicker than any other save Hagrid's 'umbrella'. It had ridges to make it easier to grip and even a hand guard.

"Hmm", Mr. Ollivander said, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . however . . ."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes. "Yes . . . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?", he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the slightly open door. I then noticed him using Mist. When an inexperienced person used Mist, you could see a little mist forming before it dissipated, if you were observant enough. But when an experienced person used it, you would not notice any change but you would get the feeling that there should have been a change. It's difficult to explain, like seeing things clearly when you knew it should have been blurry.

He then pressed something and a long sturdy blade emerged out of the other end. What the hell? At least, now I understood why the wand was so thick. It was also meant to be the handle of a broadsword. The blade looked like steel but there was something about it that made me feel like it was not so ordinary.

"Mithril . . . I never thought I would see it in my life time let alone hold it in my hand considering that dwarves hoard their supply of it as fiercely as the goblins guard our gold." He gave a few practice swings and turned it back into a wand. "It's quite well made too."

He then looked at the judges and said, "The set was created as a single unit and neither wand nor the blade can be detached. So, it is to be considered as a single magical implement."

"Good", Mr. Ollivander said, after receiving a non verbal agreement from the judges, and handed Krum back his wand. The previous use of Mist ensured that no one would make a fuss about it or consider it important enough to report it, or perhaps remember it, I was not too sure about that. "Which leaves . . . Ms. Potter."

I handed over my wand.

"Aaaah, yes,", Mr. Ollivander said, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining my wand than anyone else's, creator's pride perhaps or nostalgia. Eventually, however, he gave it back to me and had me make a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and then announced that it was still in perfect condition. Apparently, my wand had bonded so well with me that it would not work for anyone else. I had a feeling that there was much more that he was not telling me.

"Thank you all for your patience.", Dumbledore said. "Now, the press will have precisely five minutes to ask your questions after which we will commence with the photo shoot out."

The reporters stood up quickly and started shouting their questions at us. A flashbang from Dumbledore kept them quiet. "Keep calm. You will all get your turn. We will start with the youngest."

Seeing the sour look on the face of one of the reporters, one Miss Rita Skeeter, it was obvious that the statement was meant as a subtle dig at her. Perhaps, she had insulted him in her previous article or something. Considering that the youngest reporter was ours, it might have also been Dumbledore's attempt to give us an advantage.

"Luna Lovegood of Hogwarts Herald to Iris Potter. How hard do you think the tasks are going to be compared to slaying the Dementors?", she asked.

That was a sly move from her. As the youngest champion, it was obvious that I would be seen as the most vulnerable, even if it was not true. She reminded them that I had slain monsters that were considered unkillable, that were the boogeymen of the wizarding world. As the first question, it would remain in the mind of everyone present.

"I can't tell you. The organisers did not tell us what the tasks are. They even took an Unbreakable Vow to keep it secret.", I replied.

"Sofia Jones of La Beaute Parisienne to Victor Krum. Why did you decide to try for the Triwizard Tournament?"

Well, not every French had to have a weird name with de, la or something in the middle, I guess. They could have normal names too.

"Everyone knows I am a good at Quidditch.", he stated without any trace of arrogance, "I vont to challenge myself. I vant to know how good a vizard I am. It's ven their life is in danger, people show who they really are."

I did not know how much of it was true and how much of it was premeditated to give a good impression of him.

"Aleksandra Dobrev of Magicheski novina to Fleur Delacour. Do you think the Veela community is proud of your selection?"

The scowl that formed on French champion's face showed that the question was not as innocent as it initially seemed.

"My maman and papa are proud of me. I am Veela and witch. I 'ope to make zem proud wiz my performance."

Was it just me or were every reporter here female? It could be a coincidence or everyone wanted people who would actually ask appropriate questions and not waste time drooling over the Veela.

"Rita Skeeter of Daily Prophet to Iris Potter.", she said eagerly, "What made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"As my fellow champion Mr. Krum eloquently stated, I wanted to see how good I am as a wizard, or a witch, depending on how you define the terms.", I replied.

It was Luna's chance next. "My question is to the other two champions. What do you think of having a much younger student as your fellow champion?"

Trust Luna to find a loophole in the one question per turn allowance.

"Ven I joined the national team, the team manager was criticized for taking in a skool kid. They do not speak ill of him now. I am sure she vill prove her mettle during the tasks, as a champion or as a fraud.", Krum said.

"I am 'ere to prove myself. I 'ope zey will not . . . 'ow do you Eenglish say eet . . . dumb down ze tournament. If she was chosen by ze Goblet, she must be good enough.", she said.

Despite her words, her mocking tone revealed the way she thought of me. I hoped, for her sake, that she could back up her attitude and did not coast along on her Veela allure. Otherwise I would gladly crush her with a smile on my face.

"Sofia Jones to Iris Potter. How do you feel about competing with those who have three years of education over you?"

"The tournament is not just about having knowledge but applying it appropriately when your life is on the line. I can not speak for the other champions but i personally feel it will be a good challenge."

"Rita Skeeter to Iris Potter. How do you think your parents would feel about your participation? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

"I can not answer that question as I only know them through the stories I was told. If you are interested, you can interview my godfather. he says being Venerable Lord Black is not as exciting as it sounds."

As the most popular writer in the only newspaper of magical Britian, it would be stupid to antagonise Rita Skeeter when it was not strictly necessary. So, an olive branch with an implied threat was the appropriate response. She would not have survived the cutthroat world of press if she could not take the hint.

Hopefully, any adventures would remain in the professional realm and not end up in bed. Sirius was a bit of a ladies' man and Rita could be quite a lovely figure if she fired her make up artist and got someone who actually knew the job.

After our interrogation-I mean interview was over, it was time for photo shoots. Due to her enormous height, she was seated in the lower platform. There were disagreements as to who else should be on the front with her. Most of the males wanted Fleur Delacour while some others wanted Victor Krum while the Skeeter wanted me in front. Creepy, much. It was finally decided that the officials would sit in the front while we, the champions, would stand on the raised platform behind them. First set of photos was of all of us, then just the champions and then our individual photos. After some dragging around, we were finally free to leave.

X-X-X-X-X

AN : It was amusing to see that many people seemed to consider Veela's true form as merely having white feathered wings. I gave them a form that I believe would be more fitting from their canon descriptions and a dark past to justify the dark creature label. Their Veela form is said to be so ugly Mr. Weasley used them to give a moral lesson to his children to not be fooled by external appearances.

The next chapter will be the First Task. Any suggestions for the beasts for champions to battle are welcome. I am still working out how much should be changed and how much should be kept the same.


End file.
